Maria turned and stared at the room and its plush furnishings. When she looked toward the huge bed and its sheets of red satin, she closed her eyes, trying to not envision Michael on that bed with Ruby. She wanted to think of him as only her own. How marvelous it would be to say that he was hers . . . only … to love and cherish forever. But she knew this could not be true. This was a man who had had many women. Would he even think her skilled enough this night to quell his hungers? He at one time had . . . but possibly because she had been the only one available at the time. Had he truly loved her as he had professed to? Or had he only loved . . . her.. . body?
The polished mahogany bedstead and tables shone back at her in dark wines, and the carpet beneath her feet was soft beige, inviting her toes to curl into it. She glanced down at the underthings she still wore and wondered if she could indeed disrobe to only bare skin once again for a man's fingers to explore her body. She shivered, thinking of the thrill of such touches from Michael. Somehow it didn't seem quite fair to not be able to reveal her identity to him. And how was Ruby going to succeed at even doing this?
Maria went and slouched down onto a thickly upholstered chair, biting her lower lip. None of this was real. It just had to be a dream. Surely she would soon awaken and find herself in the bed in her own bedroom, surrounded by the most drab of settings. Her gaze moved around her once again, seeing the red rosebud design of the wallpaper that graced the walls and the brocade draperies that hung in pale beiges at the window. Then the breath caught in her throat when the door opened once again.
“Oh, it's only you, Ruby,” Maria sighed, rising.
“It's all taken care of,” Ruby said, moving to the bed, smoothing the pillows.
“What did you do?” Maria asked, going to Ruby, to cling to her arm. “What am I supposed to do?”
Ruby swung around, all smiles. She took Maria's hands and squeezed them. “I went to Michael and told him that I have me this new girl who has never been with a man in such a house as mine before,” she said. “I told him that to break the girl in, the girl has only agreed to take this man to bed with her if the man would agree to walking into a room of total darkness. I even told him that this girl would be too afraid to speak. He immediately became interested.”
Maria paled. “Do you .. . mean … he would actually … ?”
“Honey, don't you know? Any man would. All men like challenges. What better challenge than this … ?”
“But, my brother Alberto said that Michael looked .. . uh . .. down on his luck,” Maria murmured. “If he is down on his luck, how can he afford to gamble so much and have women? This all takes money.”
“Honey, I know all about this Michael Hopper,” Ruby purred. “Only I know his true purpose for being in this area. One day? Maybe you will even find out, whenever you can reveal yourself to the man you love. But until then, just take my word for it. You are just about to be bedded with one of the richest gents in Saint Louis.”
“Then he is still rich? Truly? And he still lives in Saint Louis?”
“Correct.”
“Then . . . why … is he here in this small community? Surely he has better places to visit in Saint Louis?”
“These are things you are not to worry your head about, honey,” Ruby said, going around the room, turning the lights out.
“How will he find his way to the . . . bed . if the lights are out?” Maria said weakly, looking slowly around her.
“I've told you. He's been in my room before.”
Maria lowered her eyes. “Yes. I remember. You did say that.”
“Now, honey. Don't let knowing that worry you too much. All men have to have these needs fulfilled. If Ruby didn't do it, someone else would.”
“Yes . . . 1 . . . know“
“So you just remove the rest of your things and climb onto that bed. Michael should be coming any moment now.”
“I just don't see how this will work,” Maria said, turning her back to Ruby as she stepped out of the rest of her undergarments. She was glad to see that Ruby had turned the last light out and couldn't make out Maria's nude shape in the dark.
“Just lie on the bed and keep your mouth shut. In the darkness of the room, Michael won't be able to tell if you are Negro or white,” Ruby purred. “And because of your olive tones, you'll just blend into the darkness. You'll see.”
Maria went to the bed and climbed atop it, feeling the coolness of the sheets next to her skin. She trembled, hugging herself. “I'm a bit afraid,” she whispered, teeth chattering.
“Good. Michael knows he's going to enter a room that has a scared girl waiting for him. It's best you play the part to the hilt.”
“How can I thank you, Ruby?” Maria said, trying to see Ruby, but not able to even see her outline against the wall.
“Honey, just keep this Michael Hopper happy,” she said, laughing throatily. “As long as we have the likes of that man and the riches he possesses frequenting this house, Ruby is kept all smiles.”
“Okay,” Maria said, stretching out on the bed. “I only hope he doesn't realize who I am. It could cause many complications.”
“When a man gets his passions aroused, he isn't aware of much else. Just enjoy it. He's quite a skilled lover. Let him take you away to heights of ecstasy. Don't worry about anything else.”
Maria began to speak once again, but was halted when a knock on the door broke through the ensuing silence. “Michael,” she blurted, covering her mouth with a hand. “God. Oh, Michael.”
Ruby opened the door and moved out into the hall. Maria could hear muffled voices, then felt the thundering of her heart when the door opened and closed once again, giving her only a brief glimpse of Michael's face when the light fell across it when he opened the door. Oh. God. How can I do this? Maria worried to herself. When she listened and could hear the rustling of clothes being removed, tears wet her checks. Here she was . . . with Michael.. . and not able to even breathe his name … or tell him that she loved . . . missed . . . him. …
When she felt the weight of his body slide on the bed next to hers, she immediately smelled the familiar aromas of him. It was as before . .. expensive male cologne and cigars. Oh, how could she have been expected to forget such things about him? Their togetherness had been a time of sensuality. She would always be able to remember even the smallest details about him … the man she adored … the man she loved. She tensed, waiting for that very first touch.
“I know that you're new at this,” he said, taking her hand, kissing each fingertip. “I shall be gentle,” he added. “I shall make you never be afraid again.”
Maria was filled with many emotions. Too many to separate inside herself. His lips … his fingers . . . had become his eyes . . . seeking her out in the darkness. His lips were soft against her flesh, yet tearing out small pieces of her heart as he continued to explore her body. Once he let his lips move from her fingertips, he let them move to the hollow of her throat, then downward until he found a breast, the nipple taut, ready.
A warmth seized Maria, remembering the skillful-ness of those lips. Yes. It was so easy to recall. As though they had never ever been separated. She groaned from deep inside herself, as his lips moved lower, across the trembling flesh of her stomach, then lower, tracing that part of her body that lay spread between her thighs.
Squirming, Maria chewed on her lower lip, having the need to cry out from passion. But she instead reached downward, until she found his arms, and then encouraged him to move upward, so wanting his lips to crush against her own. Then when he did as she wished, Maria began melting inside, a slow, gentle melting that went from her head to her toes. She moved her body next to his, feeling the hardness of his manhood as it lay against her leg, wanting to reach out. . . touch it. . . but she feared being that bold would cause him to wonder about this girl who wished to remain anonymous … the girl who was supposed to be inexperienced.
“You are quite skillful in the way you kiss,” he finally murmured, running his fingers
upward, through her hair. “And, ah, such luscious, soft hair. Nothing like any I've felt before in this house of girls. Your hair is soft, almost like silk. Not coarse like the other girls of this house.”
Maria's heartbeats faltered. Was he guessing that she was indeed not a Negress? Were there ways to tell? Then she forgot her worries … her fears … when his lips moved to her throat and kissed her there once again … so soft… so sweet… while his fingers made contact on both her breasts, kneading, pinching.
“And now I'd like to warn you before I enter you,” Michael said, moving a hand down between her thighs, caressing her there. “Ruby said this was the first for you while in this house. She didn't say if it was the first time for having sex, though. But I will be gentle, just in case it is.”
Maria closed her eyes, as the intensity inside her grew. She was full of wondrous desirous feelings. She felt no guilt… no shame. What she was doing seemed natural .. . even expected of her . . . since she was with the man she loved. If she could only whisper of her love to him, touch him where he now throbbed . . . urge him inward. She didn't wish for him to be gentle any longer. She wanted him to take her quickly .. . recklessly even. Being in Michael's arms once again was causing her head to reel with delight. She wanted to tell him this. But instead, she had to continue to lie mute .. . writhing . . . waiting. . . .
With a moan of ecstasy, he entered her. First slowly, then with quick, eager thrusts. His fingers pressed into her flesh, lifting her hips to meet him. His mouth crushed down upon hers, trembling with passion and desire.
“Maria,” he then whispered as his body quivered .. . clutching her to him as though she was in a vise. .. .
Maria's eyes flew open, momentarily stunned, having heard her name. Had he truly spoken it? Did he know? How? But soon even these thoughts were taken from her mind when she felt the pleasurable sensations begin as waves in her head, then splashing through her in one marvelous climax after another.
“Ah, Maria,” he whispered, caressing her breasts, then withdrew suddenly. “I'm sorry, miss . .. uh . . . I'm very sorry to have spoken another's name. It seems it's a habit of mine. I guess I can't get someone free from my mind. I'm sorry. Believe me. . . .”
Tears moved down Maria's cheeks. She reached for Michael and urged him to lie next to her once again. She wrapped her arms around him, fitting her body into his, clinging. Oh, Michael. Oh, Michael, she thought to herself. You do love me. You do miss me. Oh, Michael. How can I marry Nathan Hawkins knowing this? Oh. God. What shall I do?
Michael's fingers went to her cheeks, wiping the tears away. “I'm sorry if I hurt you,” he whispered, kissing her gently on the lips. “I tried to be gentle.”
Maria sobbed harder. She clung to him harder. When he circled his arms around her and climbed atop her once again, she urged him to enter her, knowing that in only that way would he know that he hadn't hurt her. She wanted him. Over and over again this night. For after this night, it would never be possible again. She had to marry Nathan Hawkins. She didn't have any choice in the matter.
“Do you want me to do it again?” Michael asked, smoothing her hair from her face. “Is that truly what you want? Can't you say something? Surely you aren't afraid any longer. Please say something to me. We have shared something beautiful together. Only one other time in my life have I ever shared anything as beautiful.”
Maria still kept her lips sealed. Instead, she moved her body so that he could penetrate inside her to the deepest inner part of herself. She moaned in silent ecstasy as she could feel the pleasures sweeping through her once again. And when his lips sought out a breast, she pushed it upward further into his mouth and cried out as his teeth bore into it.
“I think Ruby has herself a little wench here,” - Michael panted, now working in earnest as his body moved in and out. “God. Your body is so responsive to mine.” He pulled her closer to him, attacking her with both lips and manhood now, until Maria began to ache. But it was a beautiful, delicious ache. One that she would store in her memory storage house for the rest of her life. The hollowness inside her was being filled. Then the painful passion was being spent into flashes of multicolors as her body was wracked with spasms in unison with his own.
Maria wanted to cry out his name. But she kept her silence, waiting to listen to his own words once again. Would … he … ? But this time he didn't speak her name. He just whispered words of love over and over again, until he lay silent atop her, panting.
“Enough for now,” he finally said, moving from the bed. “I don't think Ruby has anything to worry about where you are concerned. In fact, I'm going to ask for you every night from here on out. Maybe tomorrow night you might even let me see you beneath the lights. I would like to see the face on the wench who displays such knowledge of lovemaking.”
Maria closed her eyes, chewing her lower lip. Again she wanted to cry out to him. Confess to him that this had just been a game devised by Ruby. But she couldn't. She knew that Nathan Hawkins's threats were indeed a cruel reality.
“You'll find a reward for your time given to me on the dressing table,” Michael said, then vanished from the room just as quickly as he had appeared, leaving Maria staring blankly toward the closed door, dying a slow death inside. He had paid for her body … as though she was … a whore. …
Tossing over to lie on her stomach, she began to beat her fists against the mattress, sobbing noisily. She had found Michael. . . only to lose him once again. And he had said that he would seek her out even the next night. She knew that this next night, she would probably be lying in another man's arms.
“Oh, how I hate you, Nathan Hawkins,” she hissed between sobs. “How I despise even the thought of your nearness. But you will pay. Yes . .. you will pay.. ..”
Chapter Twelve
Tears wet Maria's cheeks as she moved around the house she had grown to hate. This was the last time she would see it for a while. Her hate for it was still just as great, but it was the Lazzaro home, a home that she had to bid farewell to, along with her Papa and Alberto. She was torn inside, not knowing how to reveal to them the truth of her parting. If they found her gone, she knew that it might even cause her Papa's health to worsen. But if she left word of where she might be found, she couldn't help but believe that Alberto would come gunning for Nathan Hawkins.
She shook her head, grief dimming her eyes. She knew that she would just have to wait until later, after the marriage to Nathan Hawkins was definitely consummated. Then Alberto would have no choice but to accept that his sister was indeed married, and no matter if it was to the evil Nathan Hawkins.
She lifted the skirt of her dress, admiring it. She was Finally able to wear the dress her Aunt Helena had given her. She knew that she had to be almost beautiful in such a dress of bows and ribbons. She then ran her fingers over the swell of her bosom, knowing that the pleats of the bodice emphasized her greatness there even more. But the neck was staid and tall and the sleeves long and puffed, covering most of her flesh, which she was grateful for. She didn't wish for this evil man to be able to gloat over his prize too soon. She would keep her distance, until she would be forced to do otherwise.
“My violin,” she sighed disheartenedly to herself, remembering the long gape down its front. “I guess I shall have to leave it here. It is now broken. I can no longer have it to fill my lonely hours. I shall so miss its whispers as my bow moved across its strings. But one day … I shall have all the money required to get it repaired. Then I will play it both day and night.”
Taking one last, lingering look, she could envision her Papa sitting slouched in his favorite chair. As of late, his eyes had become so empty … sad. . ..
She rushed out the front door, stifling a sob, looking off into the distance, seeing the house she was headed toward. She could understand why Nathan Hawkins hadn't sent for her. His having come in person once to her house had been enough for him. She knew that he had his own reasons for using his representatives to do his dirty business for him. She w
as just relieved that he hadn't sent a representative this day. That would have added humiliation upon humiliation, to have boarded a carriage with one of those characterless men.
The sun streamed down onto Maria, making her lift her chin upward, loving the warmth on her face. She ran her fingers through her hair, lifting it from her shoulders, letting the wind whistle through and around it. Her freedom was now to be only short-lived. To be married to Nathan Hawkins would be even worse than the prison life of Hawkinsville, except that now, she still had to believe that she could use the Hawkins name and wealth. Wouldn't that be a way of breaking the bonds for most of the Italians? Her pulse raced, thinking about all the possibilities.
Hurrying along, waving to first one Italian, then another, Maria knew that this would be the last time she would be addressing them as Maria Lazzaro. She would soon be Mrs. Nathan Hawkins. She repeated the name over and over again in her mind, trying to find something about it that sounded right. Maria Hawkins. Soon she would be Maria Hawkins.
Then her thoughts traveled to another name. Maria . . . Hopper. .. .
She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Oh, God, how she wished to be heading for Michael's house, to soon become his bride. She swallowed back the urge to cry, remembering being in his arms only the previous night. When he had spoken her name while making love, she had then known that he loved her still, just as she loved him. But now? Now she knew the possibilities of never seeing him again.
The wind continued to whip her hair upward from, her shoulders. To her, it seemed that Illinois wasn't only a state filled with great seas of grasses, but also of great winds. But she loved the wind. If she closed her eyes, she could envision it to be Michael's fingers rippling through her hair, lifting it, as he so often had done. Her passion for him soared at this moment. She would now always think of him when the winds blew. A passion in the wind. . . .
She stepped up onto the iron bridge, stopping to take one last look at the Italian community she was leaving behind. She could see smoke spiraling upward from most of the chimneys, and she knew that most of the women were heating wash water on their stoves, ready to begin their hard day of labor, with no hope for the future of having anything any different.
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